


Day by Day

by autumnalecho



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Post-Canon, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), South Downs Cottage (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-30 19:54:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20102728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autumnalecho/pseuds/autumnalecho
Summary: Their distinct ways of flowing through human life curled and weaved around one another until they found themselves developing new routines that hummed in tune together.





	Day by Day

It was an adjustment, moving into the one-bedroom cottage in South Downs. Neither of them had shared such close quarters with another being before. Slowly, they settled in — to the house, to each other. It took several months. Their distinct ways of flowing through human life curled and weaved around one another until they found themselves developing new routines that hummed in tune together. 

The one they are partaking in now finds Crowley burrowed beneath the duvet, sleeping soundly, while Aziraphale nestles himself against the pillows, book in his lap and reading raptly. After the end of the world (that was not the end at all), Crowley began to indulge in his favorite human pastime more and more. Eventually, they found themselves doing this particular routine nightly. 

* * *

It had been an easy decision, after everything, to pack up and leave London behind. One day, about a week after their celebratory lunch at the Ritz, Crowley had looked at him and asked if he ever felt a little tired of city life. Aziraphale supposed he did… and wouldn’t it be nice to retire somewhere quiet? 

_ Just the two of them_. It went unspoken. 

They found the cottage tucked away near the seaside two weeks after that and moved in three short days later. They had forged many new routines since then. 

Their days started with tea and a bit of toast, maybe some eggs if Crowley felt up to it. After breakfast, they would go their own ways for a bit. Aziraphale would read through the morning and early afternoon or, sometimes, he’d try his hand at cooking or baking. So far, there had been little success there. Crowley always insisted he could just miracle it better, but Aziraphale would _know_. 

The demon, meanwhile, worked away in the small garden they had set up out back. Aziraphale could hear him often, hissing demonic threats to the sprouts from the open kitchen window. When he wasn’t doing that, he was finding small ways to be a nuisance to the angel until finally Aziraphale would give in and join him on whatever excursion Crowley had his mind stuck on. 

Whenever the sun started climbing back down the sky, they found themselves coming together at the front porch, one way or another. Crowley would reach for his arm, loop it around his own, and off they would go, strolling along the shore and watching the waves lap at the last touches of light in the sky. 

Crowley would keep close to his side until the stars began to wink into place. Then he would break away, wander ahead just a bit, eyes trained above them. He always stopped a few minutes later, and Aziraphale would catch up, reach for him, guide him gently home. Safely tucked into the cottage for the night, they would settle in the main room to watch television, accompanied by a bottle or two of wine, maybe brandy. Sometimes they had long conversations late into the night, other times they simply enjoyed each other’s presence and passed nothing but idle commentary as the television droned on.

Eventually, Crowley would slump further and further into the couch cushions. It always fell to Aziraphale to stretch up out of his armchair, turn the television off, gather up the empty bottles and say, “I think it might be time we settle into bed." Crowley would follow along, shucking the day’s clothing as he went.

* * *

They would find themselves just where they are now. Crowley beneath the covers and Aziraphale laying on top of them, propped up against the pillows with the book of his choosing.

It was lovely. It was more than Aziraphale had ever let himself hope for, really. He shifted his gaze from the page in front of him to the demon, curled at his side. _ Soft,_ he thought, though he wasn’t sure why. He reached, let his hand brush across the hair at Crowley’s forehead. Then, smiling to himself, he turned back to the book in his hand. 

As dawn touched the sky, Aziraphale put down his book, per usual, and slipped off into the kitchen. He was busying himself with making their morning cups of tea when Crowley slinked in. One hip cocked against the doorway, arms folded across his middle, he watched the angel. There was a soft smile hidden in the corner of his lips. Aziraphale coveted that smile. 

“Good morning,” Aziraphale smiled back at him, warmth blooming in the pit of his stomach and climbing up into his chest.

“Morning,” Crowley drawled, pushing himself off the doorway and across the kitchen’s threshold. 

He crowded Aziraphale against the counter and leaned down, brushing a soft kiss against his lips. When he pulled back, his eyes were serious and searching but touched with such a fondness that Aziraphale could feel heat unexpectedly rising to his own cheeks. 

“Thought we’d try something new,” Crowley said, as a way of explanation.

Aziraphale hummed in response, aiming for nonchalance. “I think I like it,” he replied. 

That smile buried in the corner of Crowley’s mouth deepened.

“Me too.” 

And then he leaned down again and pressed a firmer kiss to Aziraphale’s lips, hand coming up to cup the angel’s jaw. Aziraphale angled his head up, pushed in closer, deeper. He found his hands buried in Crowley’s hair, absently wondering why they had never thought to do this before. 

When they parted, Aziraphale could feel himself glowing, that the kitchen was brighter than a moment ago.

“Good morning,” Crowley said again, whispered against the angel’s hairline.

Aziraphale let out a slow, happy sigh and followed Crowley to the kitchen table, mugs in hand.


End file.
